


nothing that can't be turned around

by dharma_club



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2020 NHL All Star Weekend, Bad Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, competitive jerks to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharma_club/pseuds/dharma_club
Summary: Travis knows exactly who Mitch Marner is.
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Others (mentioned), Travis Konecny/Mitch Marner
Comments: 10
Kudos: 123





	nothing that can't be turned around

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of silliness. It's really mostly because of [this gif](https://dharma-club.tumblr.com/post/614241798775324672/trevormoore-this-radiates-such-an-energy), but I'm also very dedicated to my truth that everyone in the 1st round of the 2015 draft year will fuck Mitch sooner or later. 
> 
> Many many thanks to Sarah for weeding out the typos and the weird tenses, you're a star. 
> 
> Title from Garbage's _Androgyny_ , because somehow I felt the mitch/tk vibe required some 90s female grunge-pop.

Travis knows exactly who Mitch Marner is. Has known from that moment years ago, when he went to pick up G from his hotel room on the very first day of training for the world cup and found Marner already there, pants down and facing the wall, his cheeks red as Travis’s captain fucked him in short brutal thrusts. There wasn’t a lot about the situation that required intense observation, G’s grunts filling the room as Marner gasped desperately into the wall he was leaning against. 

“Jesus, man,” Travis said, sighing and rolling his eyes. Because of course it took exactly three seconds for G to find some twink to fuck. “It’s fucking nine am.” 

“Don’t,” Marner groaned at Claude. “Don’t you dare stop.” 

Marner’s hand shot back to awkwardly clutch at G’s thigh, keeping him close. Not that Travis thinks anyone was thinking of stopping.

“Just -” Claude said, turning his head to Travis, his hips never faltering. 

Travis had maybe been where Marner is once or twice, and he got the appeal, but it didn’t mean he had to be _nice_ about this. 

“Whatever, man, you’re fucking disgusting,” he said, rolling his eyes again for emphasis, and went to buy the largest latte Paris had to offer instead.

That experience left a distinct impression, and hockey aside (because Travis is enough of a professional to recognize talent, whether it’s on his other wing or on the opposite team, and Marner is has talent in spades), yeah, Travis knows exactly who Mitch Marner is - he’s a fucking _slut_. 

It’s almost amusing to see him at the all star weekend, Marner’s smile wide as he leans against Matthews and Andersen, greedy for attention even when there is no need for anyone to actually be touching him, really, even when media and cameras are everywhere. 

Travis just shakes his head whenever he notices him, because it’s so fucking predictable it’s almost pathetic. And yet there’s just something about him that makes Travis wonder. Not in any concrete way, not when Marner is so obviously preoccupied with others. Still, it’s a thought. 

They’re in Chucky’s room tonight, the party still going strong even though it must be 2am by now. Travis has never considered what an NHL All Star weekend might look like. Turns out it’s like every international competition he’s been in; only minus the actual competitive hockey and triple the partying. He’s been chatting to O'Reilly most of the night, but the other man has left now and Travis is considering doing the same. He looks around, trying to figure out whether he should just keep sitting in his armchair, let someone else show up and start a conversation, or whether something more lively is required. He spots Marner a few feet away, practically sitting in Nathan MacKinnon’s lap and giggling at something Matthews is saying. Which, just. Figures.

He’s thinking about leaving alone, or maybe even shooting his shot with Barzy, the beer in his hand going disgustingly warm when he looks up and Marner is standing above him, hands folded.

“Why are you being a sad sack?” Mitch asks, all judgmental. 

Travis laughs. “Why are you so mouthy?” he raises an eyebrow, sipping his beer. Mitch grins at him, happy, he looks a little buzzed, but not really drunk.

“You’re one to talk,” he shrugs. 

“Oh, I thought that would make me your type?” Travis leers, and while Mitch is scowling, he’s not walking away.

Travis can see the door to the hotel room from his vantage point, and he frowns when he catches Andersen guiding Matthews out of the room with a gentle palm on his back, both of them looking like they’re suddenly in a rush. 

“Your boyfriends are leaving,” he tells Mitch dryly, who immediately looks over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he then turns his head back to Travis, looking at him expectantly. “Gee, I wonder what I’ll do now.”

Travis shakes his head, Mitch is just so fucking _easy_. 

He tells Mitch just that.

“You fucking wish,” Mitch protests, his chin jutting up. But Travis knows for sure now. Knows they’re going to go back to Mitch’s hotel room, or Travis’s hotel room and Mitch is going to fucking beg for him. 

His lips suddenly feel dry. “You-,” he starts to say then blinks, looking up at Mitch through his lashes. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Mitch shrugs. “You want this way more than I do, man.”

Travis stares at him, disbelieving, takes another slow swing from his beer. “Prove it.” 

Mitch grins at him, rolls his eyes mockingly “Oh, I’ll prove it.” But it’s pretty easy from there on, all Travis has to do is get up and follow Mitch out the room. So he does. 

Mitch’s room is just down the hall, only a few short steps, the music from Chucky’s room still thumping, and there’s no time to even think about it. Not that there's much to think about if you ask Travis. 

He leans on Mitch’s back, sucking gently on his neck as Mitch fumbles to open the door. He doesn’t have a clear intention behind it, just wants to see how far he can get away with it. Mitch seems to be happy to play, tilting his head sideways so Travis can have more room to work. It’s weirdly nice being able to do this while standing, Travis hasn’t slept with anymore as short as him for a while, and it’s not like he cares about stuff like that, he doesn’t, but it does make him think of new unexplored possibilities he might suggest to Marner.

He doesn’t quite do that, instead he lets his teeth graze lightly over Mitch’s skin between kisses, resting a hand lightly on Mitch’s hip. 

“You gonna fuck me out here?” Mitch chuckles, but he doesn’t move away, and Travis smirks to himself. Mitch is so freaking easy, it’s almost impossible to resist teasing him, and so Travis bites down on the back of Mitch’s nape, hard and promising.

Mitch moans despite himself, a long surprised thing, and Travis grins.

“So, Mitch,” he breathes into his ear, pleased by the way Mitch’s breath hitches and a small huff of breath escapes him before he determinedly shuts his mouth. “Still confident you're gonna be proving something here?”

Mitch arches into him, his ass rubbing against Travis zip unmistakably. “Funny,” Mitch teases back, shaking Travis off and finally walking into the room. Travis follows, easily closing the door behind him. 

“So,“ he spreads his hands wide, looking at the generic room around them. “How do you want me?”

“Less annoying, ideally.” Mitch quips and Travis scowls at him.

“Ha fucking ha.”

But he lets Mitch tug him to the bed and arrange Travis to sit on it exactly as he wants, feet dangling from the end. He hums, pleased with himself and then easily falls to his knees in front of Travis. He’s not graceful, not exactly, too many sharp angles and limbs to be truly fluid, but there’s some underlying ease to how he moves, practiced and confident in his own skin, and Travis finds he likes it about Mitch. 

With anybody else, Travis would probably reach out and get the show going, but there’s something about this that makes him sit back and watch, observe Mitch as he chews patiently on his bottom lip.

“Come on,” Mitch whines finally, reaching for Travis’s fly in the silent room. “Get your dick out already.” 

Travis would like nothing more than to shut Marner up and stop the annoying chatter. Luckily, that’s easy to achieve.

“Yeah, you’re desperate for it?” he challenges, then laughs soundly when Mitch makes a gagging noise. He still helps Mitch get his own pants open and down to below his knees.

He’s not quite hard yet, not that it stops Mitch from leaning in happily and taking him into his mouth. He leans back almost immediately with an obscene sound, replacing his mouth with his hand and looking up speculatively at Travis. He looks like he’s assessing something, his hand expertly stroking Travis’s cock, his grip tight and steady. Travis doesn’t like that look. 

“You waiting for something?” Travis asks, annoyed, and takes off his jacket, throwing it on the only armchair in the room.

“You should be nicer to me if you want me to suck your dick,” Mitch suggests, smirking, and Travis narrows his eyes at him. It’s not that he minds how bratty Mitch is, in a way, it’s kind of the most attractive part about him, the way he constantly chirps as easily as Travis himself does, going for quantity of insults rather than for quality. 

“You don’t want someone who’s nice to you,” Travis shrugs, reaching out to cup Mitch’s face, running his thumb over the spit on Mitch’s lips. 

He barely catches the quick look of shock in the clear blue of Mitch’s eyes before it’s replaced with something smoother, less real. 

“Like you’d know,” Mitch mutters, smiling. Travis is fully hard now, Mitch’s grip loosening as he changes it up, now leisurely playing with the precum pooling at the end of Travis’s cock. 

“Stop stalling already.”

Mitch rolls his eyes as he leans in, guiding Travis back into his mouth. He swallows down more than Travis expected before pulling back, lips stretched wide and his tongue pressed against the underside of Travis’s dick just right. He bobs his head, working more and more of Travis into his mouth, his jaw stretching wide.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby” Travis sighs, then feels Mitch squeeze his thigh in warning. So, okay, fair, pet names are apparently out.

“You look so good on your knees,” Travis groans instead, running his fingers through Mitch’s hair. Not that Mitch seems to need any guidance, he’s naturally good at this, mouth hot and wet and exactly the perfect type of pressure. 

Travis kind of expects him to react to the teasing words, or to the hand pulling lightly on his hair now, but Mitch just seems to just take it in, open his mouth wider, move closer, shift his head up just a little and-

Travis catches his eyes as Mitch finally slides all of Travis’s cock into his throat, his gaze desperate and wide, challenging and hot. He knows exactly how good he is, Travis thinks, and he refuses to let Mitchell Marner get him to break, refuses to let the way he swallows around Travis’s dick make him react anything like Mitch wants him to. 

He smirks down at Mitch, raises his eyebrows when Mitch’s eyes start to water. It’s a different type of satisfaction when Mitch finally leans back, coughing slightly. Travis lets him go, he still has a bunch of Mitch’s hair in a tight grip, but he doesn’t try to pull him back onto his cock, lets Mitch gulp deep breaths of air, the ragged sound filling the room, wet and humiliating.

“Awww,” Travis coos, running his hand down to caress Mitch’s jaw. “Too much cock for you, _sweetheart_?”

“Fuck you,” Mitch bats his hand away and Travis laughs when Mitch leans in again, takes Travis’s cock back into his mouth, still looking more annoyed than anything else, and starts bobbing his head up and down, eyes closed in concentration.

Travis laughs again, delighted with the offended look on Mitch’s face, how determined he looks now, in focus and on a missing. It’s sweet, really, in a totally messed up way. 

Mitch continues it for a few minutes, sinking down on Travis’s cock again and again, almost choking on it. It’s hot, of course it is, but Travis doesn’t have the time for Mitch to get fully creative with it. He sighs, placing both palms on Mitch’s head, guiding the motion, frankly, he’s tired of waiting and he really just wants to fuck Mitch’s mouth now. 

He hasn’t quite done anything about it yet when Mitch sits back again, Travis is about to tell him to stop fucking stopping and get on with it when Mitch groans loundly in frustration.

“Can you just-,” he looks up at Travis, face red and hair a complete mess, and Travis might want to pull him in and hold him as he slides his cock into Mitch’s mouth until he cries, but it’s not like Mitch needs to know that, so he just lifts one eyebrow.

“Aw, need a break there, bud?” he asks, false concern in his voice. 

“You wish, _bud_ ,” Mitch snarls at him. “What the fuck are you playing at?” 

“I’m sorry?” Travis straightens up, the rules of the games were set clear and simple- you beg first you lose. 

“Why the fuck are you holding back on me?” Mitch continues. “If you’re not fucking interested you can just fuck off, Konecny, where the hell do you get off? If you’re not into this-”

“I’m into this- ” Travis interrupts, frowning. 

“So be into it, man,”

Travis licks his lips. “If you wanna give up, Marner-”

Mitch groans loudly in frustration. “Is this what this was?” he rolls his eyes. “Fine, yes, whatever. I give up. I totally give up. You gonna fuck me for real now or what?”

Travis smiles, amused despite himself. And yeah, Mitch is annoying as fuck, and his mouth probably tastes like Travis’s dick right now, but there’s a lot a hot, sexually frustrated guy and the satisfaction of winning can excuse. He leans in, cupping Mitch’s face and pulling him up until their lips meet, filthy and desperate. Mitch kisses like he gives blowjobs, wet and enthusiastic and better than most people Travis has been with.

Mitch moans and leans away from the kiss after a few seconds, but he doesn’t sit back on the floor, staying where he is, staring defiantly at Travis. 

“Well? Are we fucking?” Mitch asks.

Travis laughs. It’s a nice thought, but they’ve been at this for twenty minutes and there’s no chance Travis can make it for the time it will take to get Mitch properly ready and stretched. 

“Come on, “ he says, standing up. “I’m wanna fuck your mouth.”

He holds Mitch’s head steady, thrusting shallowly into Mitch’s mouth at first, giving him time to adjust, then with more intent, holding Mitch’s jaw open until he takes all of Travis’s cock again and again, helplessly moaning and gasping around it. 

“So fucking good,” Travis tells him, breathless. He can feel his own thighs shaking, barely holding himself from just letting it go. 

He looks down, hoping to catch the look in Mitch’s eyes, but Mitch has got his eyes closed shut, cheeks wet and fuck, _fuck_ , he looks so hot like that. 

“I’m going to come on your face now,” Travis warns, Mitch’s fingers digging into his thigh, which must be consent, because he just stays there when Travis pulls back. Stays exactly where he is, eyes closed and mouth open as Travis quickly jerks himself off, until he's coming in spurts on Mitch’s face.

Most of it lands around Mitch’s mouth and Travis feels a little disappointed, so he squeezes himself, pats a dirty hand over Mitch’s cheeks and forehead, making sure he looks appropriately messed up. He sits back down on the bed then, practically collapsing and panting heavily. _Jesus_

Mitch is still on his knees when Travis finally opens his eyes a few minutes, his mouth open and panting as he mindlessly runs his own hands over his thighs. It’s not that he’s suddenly turned well-behaved, far from it. There’s a smug smile on Mitch’s lips, and he has spread his knees wide, the erection tenting the wet patch on his pants only made more obvious by the slow rolling motion of his hips, seemingly unconscious. Except Travis knows better. 

“Okay,” he sighs with a smile. “Get up here.” 

Mitch does so immediately, climbing onto Travis’s lap, desperate for any type of friction. It doesn’t take much, all Travis needs to do is open Mitch’s slacks and rub him over his underwear. It must be chafing, but Mitch just lets him, can’t help but gasp wetly every time Travis tugs particularly roughly at his cock. He’s a complete mess again by the time he comes, tears rolling down his face again and his body shaking through his orgasm. Travis can’t say he doesn’t like it.

Mitch is still panting when Travis kisses him. Clings to him when Travis slides his hand into Mitch’s underwear and slides his hand down Mitch’s ass, just gently exploring.

Mitch moans then, hides his face against the fabric of the shirt Travis is still wearing, there’s probably no salvaging it now, with Mitch’s face being as messed up with tears and come as it is. 

Still, it’s tempting. Travis bites his lip, considering. And yeah, whatever. He can probably take an extra hour of Marner being insufferable. He presses against the the pucker, nothing fancy, just a little pressure that makes Mitch shift in his lap. There’s definitely some potential here. 

“Wanna wait a little and then I’ll fuck you for real?” Travis suggests. 

“Yeah, okay,” Mitch mumbles against his collarbone, but Travis can hear the smile in his voice, and he pinches Mitch. Making him look up. “You’re such a stubborn bastard, you know.”

Which is just. Yeah, Travis kind of knows.


End file.
